Trunks tried to stay calm. Tried to press down his revulsion and fear despite everything that was happening to him.

Through the haze of his mind and the lilac strands plastered to his face by his own sweat and blood, Trunks could see Seventeen standing to his left, putting his pants back on and buckling the belt.

When it had been happening, Trunks had thought that Seventeen inside him was the worst thing, the final thing that would happen to him.

But that was not the case.

Still helpless and half naked on the ground, Trunks tried to ignore the soft, warm hand that rested on his abdomen. Tried to not feel each finger where it rested, sending little tingles of entirely unwanted excitement through him.

"I'm still here, you know," Eighteen chuckled at the fallen Saiyan. "You can't ignore me for long. I'll make sure of that."

Trunks gasped as Eighteen formed little shocks of energy in the hand on his stomach and sent them through his body. Each shock of energy was like a bubble that upon contact would explode and create a little welt upon the fair skin where it did.

It hurt and Trunks wished even more fervently that his energy had returned to escape both this…and the torture he knew by now was going to come. The android placed another hand next to the first, giving Trunks tiny bombs of energy with both hands.

The Saiyan was so distracted by the unavoidable pain that it took quite a while for him to notice the change in Eighteen's position with the addition of this second hand. It was only as she stopped the energy long enough to rip of the tattered black tank top that had been covering the rest of his torso that Trunks' eyes when wide with realization.

Eighteen was sitting on his stomach, one leg on each side, in effect, straddling him. The lilac haired warrior struggled against his own weakness and in return earned only a little laugh from the woman on top of him.

"When will you realize it's hopeless, human?" She purred, bending down to lick the blood from Trunks' lavender hair.

Something about this action electrocuted Trunks in a way that none of the energy blasts had. Her tongue twisted around the tall, blood soaked locks on his head, her neck arched downward to do so. The android's chest just barely brushed Trunks' throat and he had to swallow down bile once more as he felt the gentle motions in all areas of her body.

And once again, despite his own moral horror at the situation, his body was responding. The thought was almost too much to bear. It was one thing for a murderer to take your body and rip it apart for his pleasure. The victim had no control over that, but this…

Trunks felt one of Eighteen's hands leave the side of his face. From the small snap that came immediately afterwards, he could only guess that Eighteen had just ripped of whatever she had been wearing under her skirt.

…This was different. This time, I should be able to stop it. It's my body that has to do something for this to happen, Trunks thought to himself. Tears leaked from his eyes, which Eighteen licked away as her tongue traveled downward from his bangs.

In fact, Trunks noticed, every part of her body was moving downwards.

It was all he could do to stifle the instinctive sound his body wished him to make as a flesh warmed skirt pressed downward against his erection.

Eighteen seemed to enjoy watching this warrior struggle. Either way she grinned and pressed against him a little harder.

Trunks was trying to fight, trying to control his breathing, his temperature, but all of that was swept away in a single moment as Eighteen lifted up her skirt to create a flesh on flesh contact.

Air escaped through Trunks' gritted teeth as a hiss and when he tried to stop it, the air simply came through his nose and continued as heavy as a straining stallion's.

In some part of his mind, he heard as Seventeen wryly commented, "Ride him, cowgirl," while the rest of him was focused on what was happening at his crotch.

The murderer was raping him, covering his most secret part with the moist lips of her own. It almost burned him, the warmth from her body.

He managed to get his breathing under control. Slow and steady, slow and controlled. That was the only way he could hold onto himself, his sanity, as she pushed him inside her body. He concentrated on not making a single sound, a single gasp or moan as she mixed a circular motion into her steady penetration.

Her thrusting began just as her twin brother's had. A sudden start, a drop back to a slower tempo, and a gradual increase.

Trunks gritted his teeth as her thrusts continued to speed up. Inside and then outside, Inside and out.

In out, In out, In out.

She was bouncing off of him, her butt cheeks slapping upon his thighs with welt-creating force. Trunks was back to gritting his teeth. He couldn't hold it anymore. As much as he wanted to kill himself for it, his toes curled under and he came inside Eighteen.

Though he made no outward sound, Trunks screamed at himself, ripping himself apart for his lack of control. He threw up again, even as Eighteen continued to ride him, stomach acid all that was left to dribble down his cheek.

A few moments later, Eighteen paused outside of Trunks and made her final and hardest thrust downwards, panting with orgasmic bliss.

Trunks could still not move, could still not pass out. Eighteen laughed and lay herself down on Trunks chest and shoulder in exhaustion, moaning with pleasure as Trunks' length eventually flopped out of her entrance.

"Eighteen. We should probably finish here and get going. I'm bored."

Trunks was crying. He could not help himself. What had been done could never be taken back. Just as Gohan's death. Something that once it was done, that was it, the pain would never truly stop.

After a long sigh, Eighteen got off of the Saiyan and responded to her brother, "You're right. I'm bored too. You want to do the honors?"

"Sure."

And without another moment's thought, the broken warrior was blasted out of existence, taking the only way to truly escape from the prison he had been caged into.